


Can't Tame a Wolf

by Gaxxy



Category: Guardians of the Galaxy (Movies)
Genre: Anal Sex, Biting, Blood, Blood and Gore, Feral Behavior, Feral Kraglin, Kraglin Is The Best Guard Dog, M/M, Mates, Mild Pet-play, Mild S&M, Muzzles, Power Dynamics, Pre-Guardians of the Galaxy (2014), Sexual Content, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-07
Updated: 2017-08-03
Packaged: 2018-11-28 23:33:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,653
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11428560
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gaxxy/pseuds/Gaxxy
Summary: And Why Would You Want to?Kraglin had been left to die, and he nearly did. He didn't expect to find himself picked up by the Ravagers, having impressed soon-to-be-captain Yondu Udonta. Kraglin's trust would be hard to earn, but there's something behind those pretty red eyes that drew him closer. And he didn't want to pull away.





	1. Chapter 1

Sunlight can’t penetrate through miles of dirt and grit. Any light that was to be found in the underground tunnels and catacombs of Hrax came from thin thermal charged strips of wire surrounded by coloured glass and the occasional luminescent ore. Mercifully dim so as not to blind the wretched souls who called them their home.

Navigating the extensive, complex, network is near impossible without some kind of map or the kind of ingrained muscle memory the locals cultivated from shuffling through the dirt and rock from the day they learned to crawl.

There were no dwellings, as such. Aside from opening up into wide caverns that served as canteens and occasional sleeping quarters, the tunnels themselves were lined with dozing drones and their near-blind pets.

No one cared enough to stop the intruders on their way through the maze, just continuing on with whatever they were doing. Unfortunately that apathy also extended to being helpful and giving directions. Whatever these off-worlders wanted had nothing to do with them, besides they’d probably end up getting lost and starving to death. Just meant there would be some salvaging to be done and the mutts could be fed for a couple days.

Clanging and snarling thrashed off the walls from the pits deeper down, occasionally making the floors shake and rumble.

The pits were the only other ‘structure’ down here. Currently nestled in the lowest level of the catacombs, they housed the Varren. Large quadrupeds covered in lethal spines, all leathery hide and sharp teeth. It kept them out of the tunnels, and provided a convenient disposal method for criminals. Or just anyone that was too much of a liability.

Far too curious for their own good, the intruders followed the sounds.

Hraxians were notorious for their razor sharp, often metal-tipped teeth, as much of a weapon as a means of chewing food. The few who made it off-world generally ended up in the Kyln not long after, even if they hadn’t done anything more than defend themselves. Better to be safe than sorry, after all.

Kraglin lay on the gravel floor of the pit, among the other unfortunates, metal muzzle obscuring all features but his eyes. A cruel bridle, forced between between his jaws to lock his teeth in place, attached to a bent cross that cut into his cheeks and crushed against the nose. All adjusted and tightened with thick hide straps that buckled at the back of the head.

They would probably be easy enough to get out of if the condemned didn’t have chains binding wrists to ankles.

He shivered, naked and thin, watching the bars rise to let the Varren loose. Kraglin’s limbs shook, rattling his chains as adrenaline tried to make him flee. His teeth scraped horribly against the bit in his mouth, as he thrashed and clamped his jaws. The wait was the worst part. Eking out every second of anticipation of the Varren tearing him apart, eating him alive. Every shift that burned his flesh against the searing hot ground.

Electricity jolted through Kraglin’s mouth, sharp and hot as a coal poker, from the sudden shatter of one of his upper back canines. Blood seeped onto his tongue and for a brief moment, he was almost glad of the curve of steel preventing the shards from sliding down his throat.

The muzzles made screaming near impossible. Any sliver of sound that slipped past got lost among the thunderous howls of the Varren as they raced towards their prey.

Kraglin’s heart battered against its bone cage, every sinuous fibre of his body howled as he renewed his struggle to slip the chains. Pain from his shattered tooth and overheating flesh set a burst of white behind his eyes, blinding him even as his body rolled helplessly on the gravel. On some deep level he knew he was drawing attention to himself, that the Varren might hone in on his struggles.

It might be easier if they did, end the anticipation which hurt far more than any of his physical agonies. But the claws didn’t rake into Kraglin’s exposed back. Fangs never tore at his limbs. Instead there was a high-pitched yelp before a heavy body barrelled over him, forcing precious air from his lungs.

Blurry images of Varren began to bleed through, throwing themselves onto each other. Tearing and biting as they fought for the right to the prone meals laid out before them.

Hot breath and globs of drool coated Kraglin’s back, he could almost feel the fangs ready to sink into the back of his neck. He snarled, instinctively trying to warn off the beast even though the muzzle made the noise almost inaudible. Drops of blue blood stained the ground from where strips of metal had sliced into his skin during Kraglin’s frantic thrashing.

Only, once again, death refused to claim him. A second Varren launched at the one behind Kraglin. Its hind-claws gored long gashed into his back and knocked his head, tearing through the hide straps keeping him defenceless.

A primal cry ripped through Kraglin’s throat as he shook the muzzle away, his head throbbing and muggy. He spat blood and shards of tooth, spluttering to draw air back into his aching lungs.

No longer was death so certain. Kraglin’s back burned and screeched in protest as he twisted into an unnatural angle to try and reach his chains. Claws and tails battered against his aching body, tearing and gouging more wounds into him, interfering with his desperate attempts to free himself. A particularly sharp kick sent him rolling over old bones and gravel, grit embedding into Kraglin’s skin and wounds.

No one ever makes it out of the pits. A tiny voice in the depths of his head whispered all through Kraglin’s struggling that his efforts, in the end, would be for nothing. He hadn’t been ready to die, though. The mocking grin of death’s jagged maw loomed over him as Kraglin hooked his teeth into a Varren’s flank, tearing through flesh.

The fire in his belly flared at the pained howl and he tore again, finally tasting blood that wasn’t his own. If Kraglin was going to die, ripped limb from limb, he was going to leave his mark and give death the biggest one-fingered salute he could muster before he was claimed.

“Don’t you dare, the poor creature’s as good as dead, and we’ve wasted enough time here as it is. You hear me Udonta?! Boy, I said no!”  
  
“Too late.”  
  
Kraglin didn’t know the voices that floated down to gently caress his ears. Hadn’t even rightly been sure how they’d reached him through the tempest of howls, yelps and muffled screams. What Kraglin did know was the low trilling whistle that followed was the most beautiful sound he’d ever heard … and the streak of red soaring in his direction might be the prettiest shade of colour he would ever see.

He fell still, watching with the wide-eyed awe of a pup as the beast below him twitched helplessly. So sure that its purpose was to grace his wretched being with mercy. Kill him quick and easy, before the Varren could.

Except it never pierced him. Kraglin’s chains shattered loose, freeing his aching limbs, and whatever it was arched gracefully back into the air, returning to the retreating hand of whoever wore the billowing coat.

 _Freedom,_ he thought. It was so close, all he had to do was reach out and take it.

Kraglin’s lips stretched into a crooked, bestial expression – somewhere between a sneer and a grin. His long fingers curled around a long-forgotten rib and time snapped back into pace. Traces of red light remained etched in Kraglin’s corneas as a feral cry tore through his throat. It soared with every pounce, and pulsed brightly every time he stabbed and bit into leathery hide.

The yelps and howls of the Varren washed over him like a victorious symphony. Every single one bringing him closer … to freedom? Maybe. To life? Hopefully.

Death’s sneer morphed into a scowl, slowly fading away with every crunch of bone between Kraglin’s jaws. Pride swelled in his chest and he stood tall, body trembling through rushes of adrenaline as he threw his head back and howled among the corpses.

All that lay between Kraglin, now, and the embrace of cool air his skin craved were the tunnels. He crouched and slipped his hand through a lonely vertebrae that lay by his feet, locking it in place around his knuckles.

The tunnels were nothing. Even with glorious streaks of red light obscuring his sight. They were nothing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always I want to thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed it. I welcome any and all feedback/criticism as it helps me improve and keeps me motivated. Hope to see you in the next chapter, my lovelies!


	2. Chapter 2

Kraglin ran. His bare feet slipped on loose dirt as he hastened through the tunnels, and more than a few times he stumbled into a jutting light of ore. Behind him were the rhythmic footfalls of soldiers clad in hardened hide and the threatening buzz of their shock-sticks. Kraglin snarled and lurched forward, ignoring the screaming protests of his body. If the soldiers caught up before he reached the surface, then it was over. The fighting, the whistle and the light would all have been worthless.

Worker drones slipped into crannies and halls without even a glance at Kraglin’s bare body or the open, seeping wounds that covered him. As he’d known they would, wasn’t enough life left in the wretches to care.

Soldiers were different though. Almost as feral as the Varren, tightly wound coils of discipline waiting for the excuse to snap. And now they had Kraglin’s scent. He just had to hope he’d make it to the surface before they caught up to him…. Better to be torn apart by Varren than live through the Soldiers’ fevered glee over whatever they’d think up to do to him.

Kraglin just had to keep running. Running through the desperate begging of his limbs for respite. Through the laboured wheezes of his haggard breath.

His knuckles strained around the bones he’d liberated from the pits, anchoring himself to the small comfort that at least he wasn’t completely defenceless. All he had to do was get to the surface, no one would follow him out there, and he could feel himself getting closer – the loose dirt beneath his feet was steadily growing cooler.

Did hide armour really slow people down this much? Or were the Soldiers just toying with him? Loosing the leash until he could taste freedom only to yank him viciously back right at the last minute. Maybe. Kraglin had to try though, he’d come too far to give up now.

_________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Stakar stood by Yondu as he watched the entrance to the tunnels through the observation window, arms folded. “We can’t wait much longer, Yondu, there’s a deadline to keep.” The Centaurian waved a dismissive hand that made the admiral of the Ravager fleet bristle. “He’s not going to make it out.” He resisted the urge to roll his eyes at Yondu’s smugly confident smirk. Honestly, the Hraxian was as good as dead, there was no way he had even escaped the beasts.

Yondu leaned against the wall, twirling his Yaka arrow casually in his fingers. “Maybe, or maybe he will. If he does it’ll be worth the wait. That one’s got a scrote on him, I’ll betcha my cut he makes it.”

Not even Stakar, dignified and proud Stakar Ogord, could suppress the chuckle shaking his shoulders. “Alright, Udonta. You’ve got a deal. The Hraxian gets ten more minutes.” Really, he couldn’t take away this fascination his ward had developed. It was good for him. And who knows? They might just leave Hrax with a recruit for Yondu’s crew when he earned his ship.

 _________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

So close. Kraglin could see strips of light, shining enticingly on the gravel, whispering promises of gentle warmth and the sweet taste of fresh air.

He stretched out his hand, a needy whine on his lips. Kraglin could almost feel the kiss of that light on his fingertips. He was so close, freedom was only feet away. The next thing he knew Kraglin’s shoulder slammed into a wall. Hard cold metal cracked against his ribs, and Kraglin howled in agony. His body twitched and jerked as electricity bounced with malicious glee across all of his nerves.

“Didn’t think you’d actually get away did ya, mutt?” The second one cracked off his shin as the Soldier curled thick glove covered fingers around his throat. “We’ll fix up your muzzle … fasten it real secure round your skull before we have some fun.”

Kraglin’s eyes snapped open, breath hitching on mention of the muzzle. Not again, he’d never wear that damned thing again. The Soldier shrieked, blood bubbling in his mouth. Kraglin kicked his writhing, gurgling body away, the long curve of a Varren rib jutting out from his neck.

He didn’t even look to see how close the others were, he lurched forward towards the light. Scrambling as fast as he could on all fours when he stumbled over the dying Soldier. Kraglin just needed to make it past the boundary. Then he’d be free. Then he’d be safe.

Hrax had twin suns. Kraglin remembered hearing that once when he was young. Their kisses against his body weren’t the gentle reassuring caresses he’d imagined. They were hot and overbearing like he’d dove head-first into the smelting furnace.

Gravel and hard rock gave way to fine grains of sand, soft but filled with roaring fire. Kraglin yelped and jumped, whipping up clouds of tiny particles that clung to his open wounds, stinging them with unforgiving burns. He rolled around, desperately searching for somewhere cool just to rest.

For a split second he saw them. The twin suns glaring down Kraglin like he was a festering blemish. His hands shot up to protect his eyes, howling as the light speared through to his retinas. Kraglin could smell his hair and skin burning as his body twisted and writhed, unable to escape.

It wasn’t supposed to be this way. He was meant to be free, now, instead Kraglin was trapped in a vast oven. Roasting alive under the suns he’d dreamt of seeing for so long.

He could feel Death’s cold fingers lifting him off the ground. Offering a small mercy before it dragged Kraglin into the afterlife. _Wouldn’t it have been so much easier to stay? To let me carry you away from the Varren, little cur? Instead of this. Now, now, I have you. It won’t hurt any more._ The voice crooned and wrapped around him, a cool bubble of relief.

But they were going the wrong way … the dead fall down. Kraglin was floating up.

Kraglin flailed as his bare back collided with the biting cold of metal – sending his flesh into a burning overdrive to compensate for the sudden change in temperature. He couldn’t see through the unforgiving flares of white the twin suns had seared into his eyes. Kraglin clutched the vertebra acting as a makeshift knuckle duster and stretched his jaws wide, showing off the razor sharp tips of his capped teeth as a howl tore through his throat.

There were voices all around him, bleeding together into an incoherent jumble of sound. A strong hand clamped down on his shoulder and Kraglin snapped his neck to the side, sinking his teeth into a leather-clad arm.

Surface-Soldiers. They had to be. So Kraglin struck wild and bleary-eyed. Fists and teeth lashing against the horde of attackers. His body moved against its will, crying out for him to just stop, but Kraglin’s instincts screamed louder. He was in danger and he couldn’t run. So he had to fight, even if doing so cost him his last breath.

Then he heard it. The lilting whistle pierced through the tumult of sound and he froze on his knees. Arms falling limp at his sides as a streak of red shattering the white that impaired his vision. Kraglin’s whole body trembled with fatigue and pain as he stared at the arrow-point hovering right between his eyes.

Lazy strides echoed across the metal floor before kneeling in front of Kraglin. A long swishing coat brushed the outskirts of his vision as the owner of the arrow knelt in front of him. “I knew ya had a fire in that scrawny belly.” Kraglin shuddered at the raspy voice that rattled past yellowing craggy teeth.

“Lemme get a closer look at them chompers.” A rough blue hand caught Kraglin’s jaw, forcing it open as another whistle moved the arrow out of the way. The new face was too close to really see proper and it tilting below his line of sight to stare into his mouth.

The bite of metal on Kraglin’s tongue, shards of broken tooth scraping at his gum. He yelped and twisted, sinking his jaws around the offending forearm only to feel the prick of an arrow pressing warningly into his temple. “Now that ain’t nice, considerin’ I saved your ass from them beasties back there. Now, you gonna calm down and play nice or am I gonna have to stick ya with my arrow? Be a real shame to put all that to waste.” The voice drawled, guiding Kraglin’s gaze to the blue skinned man.

Two pools of melted rubies met his, watching Kraglin with curious amusement as the Hraxian’s jaws slacked. There was something in there … a dark void behind the passionate fire, and Kraglin let himself fall limp. He knew those eyes.

In that solitary moment Kraglin connected to those pretty red irises. “Good boy. Now Stakar says I brought ya on so that means I’m the one what deals with ya. Got a name? Or am I just gonna call ya Chomper from now on?”

“Kraglin.” He breathed the word, barely still awake as fatigue caught up with his body.

A barking laugh clapped against Kraglins ears and fingers dragged teasingly through the coarse hair atop his head. “Alright then, Kraglin. I’m yer new boss. Name’s Yondu Udonta.” Yondu. Kraglin reckoned he could remember that, so he nodded groggily and promptly passed out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that was chapter 2. As always, thank you for reading - any and all feedback or criticism is welcome as it helps me do better in the future. Hope you enjoyed, and that I'll see you in the next chapter, my lovelies!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the wait between these last two chapters, folks, work and some other things have been getting in the way. Things have settled now so updates should be quicker again from now on.

Apparently Hraxian hide was far thicker than Kraglin’s scrawny frame would suggest. The ugly gashes littering his body were deep angry ravines and yet nothing too vital had been damaged. Yondu smirked to himself, pride swelling him until he looked at least six inches taller than normal.

The ship’s medic ignored him as they finished cleaning out all the debris, muttering to themselves about a bruised rib and dehydration or something. Yondu flashed his crooked teeth with a winning grin at them before turning his head to the other non-patient. “Hear that, Stakar? Told ya he’d be worth it.”

Stakar pinched the bridge of his nose, the thumb of his free hand hooking into his belt. “Be grateful he didn’t do more damage than he did, I’ve got good crewmen down because of your fixation on this Hraxian.” Yondu pointedly ignored the admonishment, noting with satisfaction the way the admirals hackles tensed in response.

“Just keep him in line, Yondu. I can’t keep him on board if he continues attacking my crew.”

Yondu snorted a chuckle, running a fingernail between his teeth. “Yeah, yeah, I heard ya the first time. Hey, doc! How long before ya get him up and runnin’?”

The doctor didn’t look at him as they pinched Kraglin’s arm, watching how slowly the skin flattened back out. “Soon’s he wakes he can leave.” They grumbled, pointing a finger vaguely in Yondu’s direction. “Keep ‘im hydrated and don’ go lettin’ the kid into any more fights for a few days. You’s stayin’ here till he comes ‘round.”

His indignant spluttering was met with Stakar’s hand clamping entirely unsympathetically over his shoulder. “Apparently you calm him down. Stars know why though.” Yondu glared at the admiral’s smug face before he was abandoned to what was sure to be hours of boredom.

Yondu sat jittering his leg and tapping his fingers against his bicep, watching Kraglin. It wasn’t like there was anything else interesting to look at in the doctor’s territory. They didn’t even have a window or screen to watch the stars. Aside from the faint clinks of metal and the creak of his leathers Yondu was surrounded by an embrace of silence – too tight and hard to be comforting. Left alone to float in the well of his own damned thoughts.

‘Fixation’, his ass. He snorted to himself, Stakar didn’t know what he was talking about. Yondu had taken a gamble and now this gangly mass of limb and hair was his prize. That’s all.

Having said that, curiosity crawled slowly over Yondu, niggling annoyingly at his brain. For all that fire he’d seen raging within the Hraxian, the need to survive that had shoved him all the way out of the maze of the catacombs, he’d melted on seeing the Yaka arrow. Still on edge enough to clamp his jaws on Yondu’s arm, but he hadn’t bit the limb clean off.

It just didn’t make sense. Folk don’t just snap out of fight or flight, not in Yondu’s experience. Not that quickly, like a lid falling back into place over the lips of a container. Yeah, maybe his interest had been peaked a little. That was all.

And maybe the way Kraglin’s leg twitched in his sleep, like that weird talking canine on Knowhere, was kinda hilarious.

_________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Cold crept through Kraglin’s skin, settling under his flesh to make him shiver. He screwed his eyes tighter and curled in on himself, trying to keep the last of his body heat from escaping. His back hissed in complaint. A familiar voice grumbled through the drowsy fog of his returning consciousness, too faint to make out the words but slowly leading him further from the sweet empty oblivion of sleep.

He groaned in protest, burying his face into … something smooth and nearly soft. _That ain’t right_ , Kraglin thought. The shrapnel of gravel, metal and bone should have been digging into his cheek. The tunnel floors had never been so close to comfortable.

“Hurry up, already. I know you’re awake, Chomper.” The drawl, accompanied by that nickname prompted blurry images in Kraglin’s mind. Rows of yellowed, drooling fangs lunging for him. The leering demented sneer of a soldier. Heavenly streaks of red light dancing around. Whatever Kraglin was lying on shook as a heavy boot collided with it, snapping his eyes open. Kraglin’s body flung itself upright and he was met with a toothy grin surrounded by scarred blue skin.

“Fuckin’ finally, been stuck here for hours waitin’ for ya to wake the hell up.” Kraglin blinked dopily at … Yondu. That’s what he’d said his name was. Slowly Kraglin’s breath started to even out, his lips uncurling from the warning snarl that had bared the sharp capped peaks lining his gums. Yondu’s chuckle was a scratchy rasping sound from deep in his throat. “C’mon, gotta free that bed up before Doc gets back.”

Kraglin groaned at the deep aches throbbing over his body as he moved to stand, the leather surrounding his legs sticking to the bed and his skin. Hadn’t he been naked before? “Why?” He watched an eyebrow arch up in response. “Why’d ya do it?” Yondu threw his head back in a scratchy laugh, his whole body shaking with mirth, that made Kraglin tense up. Which was the only reason he didn’t topple straight over when the other man’s hand slapped the space between his shoulder blades.

“Told ya already. There’s a fire in that gut of yours, wanna see how far it’ll take ya.”

Kraglin’s brow gathered together, furrowing craggy wrinkles into his skin as he dug his bare heels into a metal floor that was too smooth for him to find any purchase. He fully intended to stay right where he was, until Yondu faced him properly with a quirked eyebrow. “C’mon already, I been stuck in here for hours waitin’ on yer scrawny ass.”

Those eyes drilled into him, melting Kraglin’s will to resist with the intensity of dark red contained within the optics. It was like they drew a leash and collar, clipping them around his neck to tug him forward. Kraglin picked at the wrappings bound flush to his chest, watching the man he was following stride with confidence and impatience.

Yondu blustered through the halls with purpose, never once pausing in his gait even as he greeted passers by, clasping their hands or slapping companionably at shoulders. The energy oozing from his pores seemed to obscure Kraglin in a smog as he loped behind.

Long fingers worried over his neck, failing to find any trace of the imaginary collar or leash. Kraglin’s shoulders ached from prolonged tension and the future scars littering his body whimpered pathetically – numbed, but not completely. They didn’t matter, though. Not at the moment.

Something about Yondu bugged him. All it took was the briefest glimpse of his red gaze for Kraglin to comply with his whims. This man who had saved him, yet had no actual reason to do so, was like the natural beacons of ore lining his old tunnels. Luring Kraglin ever closer like an unsuspecting insect, and he was helpless against it.

It didn’t help that compared to the intricate subterranean warrens he’d grown up in, this giant humming metal cage was cold. Kraglin’s feet slipped regularly on the perfectly flat flooring as he tried to follow Yondu close enough to borrow some of his body heat. He eyed the billowing tail of that thick leather coat with envy.

That is until after a glance back, Yondu halted abruptly and thrust out an arm to grab Kraglin’s wrist in a tight vice. Instinctively his shoulders rose, a growl vibrating in his throat until the scratchy rasp of his ‘saviour’ sliced through the descending violent haze like the arrow that had shattered his chains. “Ya wanna scratch your own throat out or somethin’? Quit it.”

Kraglin’s arm slacked limply in the hold, falling to his side on release. He winced, slumping like a scolded pup. Only now could he feel the raw itch on his neck, having been too caught up in his own head to notice before.

After two stops, in which Yondu tossed an oversized black poncho into Kraglin’s face and collected a flask of warm liquidised food, they finally arrived at a room filled with bunks and blankets strewn across the floor. Kraglin stood awkwardly, sipping from the flask as Yondu flopped onto one of the bunks. “So, I been wonderin’.” Again Kraglin felt himself melting under that scarlet gaze, lowering to the floor as Yondu spoke. “How’d you end up down there in the first place?”

He flinched under the mused question, body tensing as though it expected to be struck. Kraglin’s nose wrinkled and pressed his lips until his mouth was little more than a slit above his chin. It brought back the cruel taste of metal against his tongue and the crunching of bones between jaws. So clear, Kraglin was almost convinced he was back with the Varren.

No matter what mystical sway Yondu seemed to hold over him, that wasn’t for him to know. So when Kraglin raised his eyes again, the dull grey fogged over with warning clouds, he bit out a question of his own. “How’d ya get them scars on yer face?”

Kraglin watched with satisfaction, tainted by a coil of guilt in his gut, as Yondu’s casual expression twisted into a dark scowl. “Fine.” The drawl was forced, a shadow of danger lurking behind Yondu’s deceptively relaxed posture. He stood and dusted off the faded leathers. “You’re gonna sleep in here with the rookies. Play nice with ‘em, ‘cause I ain’t missin’ my beauty sleep for no one y’hear?”

He only paused long enough to see Kraglin’s meek nod of acceptance before stomping out of the dorm, leaving the Hraxian to his weary thoughts and the slowly cooling soup.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, as always I welcome any and all feedback/critique. Hope you enjoyed this one, and I'll see y'all in the next chapter, my lovelies.


End file.
